Sick Day
by Therianthropicy
Summary: Stiles has the flu. When Stiles has the flu, it's always a big deal, but he can't really afford to stay home after the incident with the Nogitsune. Stiles/Derek Reviews are welcome!
1. Chapter 1

Stiles head felt like it was about to explode. The pounding wouldn't stop and everything was spinning. He slowly sat up and let out a whimper. He didn't get sick often, but when he did it him hard. He'd be home for at least a few days. He'd spend the day on the bathroom floor struggling with the chills and the threat of his previous dinner coming back up. He couldn't afford to spend another day out of school though. With all of the pack business, and his run-in with the Nogitsune, it just wasn't an option. He climbed out of bed with one hand steadying himself on the nightstand next to him.

"Stiles, hurry up, you need to get to school! You're going to be late again, buddy." His dad hollered from downstairs.

Stiles groaned again and made his way over to his closet and slipped on an old shirt and found a pair of sweat pants. Not his usual attire, but it would have to do for a sick day.

"I'll be right down Dad!" Stiles yelled back. His voice was cracking a bit and he could feel the bile rising up his throat. Oh shit he thought and he hastily made his way to the bathroom and emptied his stomach into the bowl. It was not going to be a good day. How the hell was he going to keep this from the rest of the pack? They'd surely be able to smell it on him. They'd probably get worried and give him more pitying glances. He didn't need that right now. After everything that happened he was done with the pity and the gloom. He didn't need anyone to feel sorry for him. Not anymore.

He wiped his mouth on the rag on the sink and proceeded to brush his teeth. His mouth tasted awful. He did it twice just for good measure. Once he was done he walked back into his room and stuffed his books in his bag and made his way downstairs.

"I made some bacon and eggs if you want some." His dad said in between bites of a doughnut. Stiles reached out and grabbed the other half and threw it in the trash.

"Hey! That was mine!"

"Dad, you need to watch what you eat! You know what the doctor said. Eat some Cheerios, and no sugar!" He turned and headed to the door, ignoring the plate of bacon and eggs. That would have made things worse. He slipped into the Jeep and headed to school.

* * *

He stood at his locker and shakily opened the door. The chills were starting to really bother him. Breathe he told himself and took in a breath. It was going to be a long day. A locker slammed next to him and he jumped.

"Hey Stiles! You doing okay? You look a little pale." Scott, his best friend, looked at him with a frown.

"Yeah. I'm fine. I didn't get much sleep last night that's all." Scott eyed him a little more and sighed.

"Well if you say so." Scott pulled him to their first hour.

Scott hadn't really been in a good place since everything happened with Allison. He probably just didn't want to deal with Stiles and his pathetic sickness. They both took their seats and his eyes drifted to where Allison use to sit. It was his fault that Allison was dead. He hung his head in his hands and let the grief pour over him. It was an everyday thing, for the both of them. They'd see her seat and just lose it. It had gotten a little easier, but it still bothered both of them. The hour drifted by slowly and he just couldn't concentrate. His headache had gotten worse and now everything hurt.

The bell rang and he flinched, but he got up and headed towards the door before Scott could stop him. Six classes to go. He could do this. Maybe. He dragged his feet to his next hour across the building but when he got their his stomach started to betray him.

"Shit. Not again." He said and ran towards the bathroom. He emptied his stomach, once again. The bell rang.

"Oh great, now I'm late too! Screw it!" He threw his book at the wall and sank down on the opposite wall.

"Stiles?" A voice said and made it's way into the bathroom. Stiles grabbed his things and put them back in his bag. It was Derek. Derek Hale. The one who didn't really like Stiles, at all.

"Oh hey, Derek. What's up? You're not really a student here anymore, so you should probably leave. Uhh Do you need anything?" he rambled on.

"You smell like Vomit, Stiles." Derek stated a slightly annoyed and worried look on his face. More pity.

"I'm fine, Derek. It's nothing really. If that's the only reason why you're here, I'm alright and you can go now."

"I came because Scott said you looked awful, and he was right about that. You are not fine by any means. How did you even get to school?" Derek walked over to him and put a hand to his forehead. It felt cool against Stile's head. He wanted nothing more than to lean into Derek's touch and let him hold him. Of course that would probably creep Derek out...A lot. So he just moved back away from Derek.

"It's not that bad. Really. It's just a small cold. I'll get over it by tomorrow. I can't really afford to skip school right now."

"Stiles." Derek stared at him again. "It is that bad. You're burning up. Let me take you home. Get you in the bed." Stiles lost his breath. He suddenly felt dizzy and his legs betrayed him as he started to fall Derek reached out and caught him.

"See? I told you, you are not fine." Stiles nodded and gave into Derek's touch and let him lead him out of the school and into his car. Derek snapped on his seat belt and walked over to the driver side and got in. In that moment, Stiles fell asleep. Sleeping easier than he had in the last few weeks. It would be okay, eventually.


	2. Chapter 2

Stiles woke up in bed. His head felt worse, his nose was running, and he had that sick metallic taste in his mouth. He threw off the covers and bolted for the bathroom door for the third time that day. When he was finished he sat back on the wall and pulled his knees to his chest. The past few hours flying through his mind. Derek had came and collected Stiles from school, like he was a child again. He could smell chicken soup from downstairs.

Derek must still be here.

He sighed and got up from the floor shaking a bit as he did. His entire body ached. He definitely had the flu. He headed for the stairs and walked down slowly, the stairs creaking as he stepped down. He walked into the kitchen and eyed the back of Derek.

"Derek?" He asked as his voice cracked a bit.

"Stiles, you should be in bed." Derek said with his back to him at the stove. He was stirring the soup and his posture was relaxed. Something that Stiles had rarely seen. Derek was not a relaxed person. He was always uptight, even when they had some downtime. Of course, he'd been through a lot and he couldn't trust a lot of people. Stiles didn't blame him for always being uptight.

"I don't need a babysitter." Stiles said quietly.

"Did you get sick again?" Derek asked, ignoring Stiles previous remark.

"No." Stiles replied a little too quickly.

"You're lying."

"If you knew that, why did you even ask in the first place?" Stiles snapped back. Derek finally turned around and looked him in the eye. There it was again. The pity. Everyone pitied him. He didn't want it anymore. He was broken, and he was hurt, and now he was sick too. He was tired of it.

"Come on, go lay down on the couch." Derek ushered him into the living room, a bowl in one hand, and a bottle of pills in the other. Stiles complied and sat down on the couch. Derek offered him the bowl and he grabbed it.

"Thanks." Stile said and brought a spoonful to his mouth.

"I'll get you some water for the pills." and he walked out. Stiles laid down the bowl and curled up on the couch. He wasn't really hungry, and nothing Derek could say would make him eat the soup. He felt like there was a giant hole in his chest, and he couldn't fill it. No one could. He'd been the reason why Allison had died. It was his fault.

"Stiles." Derek spoke softly. Stiles looked up at him, the tears starting to fall.

"Oh hey. Thanks for the water I really appreciate it. Thanks a bunch." He grabbed the glass of water and the pills, popped a few and washed them down. He looked down at the floor and analyzed Derek's shoes. Dark work boots. They were a bit scuffed, but they still worked fine for Derek. He obviously didn't really care about the looks.

"Why are you crying? Are you feeling worse?"

"No, No. It's fine Derek. I'm not crying. The cold's just bugging my eyes, that's all." He rambled on some more.

"You're lying again." Derek sat down next to him. Stiles sucked in a breath and stole a glance at him.

"Derek...It's my fault that Allison is dead. I killed her." Stiles looked back down at the ground.

"No you didnt, Stiles. That wasn't you. It was the Nogitsune."

"It might as well have been me! It was my fault!" He stood up and threw the nearest thing to him, a book. "She's dead because of me! Don't you understand that Derek? Everyone keeps telling me that it isn't my fault... but if I had just been stronger. I might have been able to save her. She might still be alive." He chocked.

"But I wasn't. I failed her." He whispered and sunk back onto the couch.

"Stiles. Nothing you could have done would have saved her. Nobody blames you. Allison knew what she was getting into when she went to save Lydia, that's not your fault. You have to stop beating yourself up for things that you had no control over." Derek pulled him into his arms and held him. Stiles finally let the tears fall. Loud sobs escaped his lips and soon Derek's shirt was soaked in tears in snot.

"I'm sorry that you had to see me like this, Derek." Stiles sniffled.

"Don't apologize, that's what friends are for."

fin


End file.
